


The Whims

by GettingMetaphysical



Series: All by Myself: A Doctorcest Storyline [5]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, Doctorcest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Denial, Self-cest, Unhappy Ending, doctorbation - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: None - Warning
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingMetaphysical/pseuds/GettingMetaphysical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout the entire encounter, the Eighth Doctor had dreaded this part. When the first thing you heard upon phasing into the control room was Not you! Anyone but you! it could only go downward from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whims

**Author's Note:**

> (As an older Six got fed up with the heartbreak that came with maintaining so many of the younger ones timelines, Seven had a despair period where he was afraid of meeting any of them and tried to keep to himself...)
> 
> * * *

  
Throughout the entire encounter, the Eighth Doctor had dreaded this part. When the first thing you heard upon phasing into the control room was “Not you! Anyone but _you_!” it could only go downward from there. Within minutes, the initial panic had been replaced by something uglier.

The Seventh Doctor’s TARDIS’s constant humming made a jarring contrast to it’s owner, who was shouting at the top of his lungs.

”I am SICK and TIRED of you, coming after me!” The younger Doctor stomped. “Why must you appear to trick me time and again? Why must you tear my hearts apart?”

The elder tried to step closer. ”Seven, please -!”

”DON’T CALL ME SEVEN. I am the Doctor and you are my future self. Don’t try to separate us, don’t treat ME like separate entities. Trying to make this more NORMAL than it is, are you!” The way his features twisted at the emphasis felt like a slash of claws to the older man. “I am not _different people_ , I am _the same person_ , crossing my own timeline to such a disgusting degree, all because of YOU! YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF!”

He marched back to him, holding his umbrella up like a dagger, snarling: “And let me make one thing clear, you ignoramus of a self - I will NOT have it! Not anymore! I’m done, it’s over… And you can’t touch me. Nor sway me with your support, and understanding, and, and, and your _vicious seduction_!”

Finally, his past turned and slumped onto the seats nearby the controls. The Doctor took a few, tentative steps closer, watching his younger self slowly ease his breathing. Watched him rest his head in his hands and rub his temples. A moment passed by - a short but heavy one - and the Seventh sighed. His next words were slow, and hideously tired.

”At least… until whatever happens to me, that urges this me to become your me, occurs.”

”Doctor.”

Eight moved to place a hand on his shoulder, but got it swatted away.

”I said don’t touch me.”

”I’m sorry.” To clarify, he stepped back and linked his hands together.

”You ought to be. After all, you were the one who lured me into this abominable cycle.”

”I still haven’t done that yet.”

His past looked up, brows held high. “You… you haven’t? With my youngest form?”

”With young One, no. Not yet. It’s not time yet.”

Brows furrowed back down. “What do you mean it’s not time?”

Eight wringed his hands a little, glancing at the TARDIS core pillar. He remembered seeing the future self’s wide eyes reflecting it’s moving light.

”Something has to urge me into it. I’ll just know. On a whim. I’m always feeling for the whims. They lead me right, along my timeline.

”So you say,” Seven muttered.

”So _you_ say.” His eyes flicked back to the younger Time Lord. “I used to feel for the whims before being you, I do remember that.”

”Those _'whims'_ were meticulous planning based from my memories. There was hardly any whim at all to them.”

”So you say.”

Another pause, this time through eye contact.

And when the older man went to sit down next to the younger, Seven turned his head from Eight’s firm gaze, and firmer voice. “So, according to me, I tore my hearts apart.”

The Seventh spoke to the floor. “Irreversibly. My previous self felt that, towards the end.”

”Fighting the depression, every day.” It wasn’t a reflection, it was a fact.

”Yes. But, I know, it wasn’t just this.”

”Indeed. But it played it’s part.” Eight shifted toward Seven, prompting him to at least face himself. “Doctor, did I break _my_ hearts? Won’t I tell me?”

The younger Time Lord turned his umbrella, looking down at the folds of the fabric, thinking of space, and of time.

”I did. You did. I…” Again, he looked away. The word _imposing_ simmered in Eight’s mind. “I rejected Six- my, my previous self. Early on. He was young and feisty, it was odd to see me as such again. I’ve been pondering…”

”Yes?”

”Feeling…Slightly lonely. Slightly, but… still.”

”I know. It’s okay.”

”I have these memories.”

”Yes.”

”Of this face.” He swung his wrist around to gesture at himself. Tired. It was as sad to watch and relive it as it had been to feel it. “This face, the Doctor, myself - yet again. I don’t want that. I want to be on friendly terms with me, but not… that.”

The future Doctor sounded as unsure as he could, trying not to believe his own words. “You might change your mind, you know.”

His past made a grim face. “I seem to have made a habit of it.”

”I’m sorry that I have to feel this way, my dear Doctor,” he replied, soft and quiet. “It will get better, I can guarantee it. You’ll work it out, soon enough.”

”I do not need your pity, I reject it. Leave me be…”

Still soft. “I wish you’d quit lying to me.”

”Excuse me?"

Great, he’d fired up again. It only made the older Doctor’s theory more sound.

”My memory may be foggy, but I know what I felt. You’re hurt, Doctor. You were shouting at me just a moment ago - don’t try to brush it off like a moment of weakness. I, that means you, am weak right now. I feel it on the whim.”

”What whim, what blasted whim.”

But Seven didn’t get up, Seven didn’t oppose. He sat there, and his face was made of stone. But Eight knew.

That had always been the scary part. Though judgement may be clouded, personalities may alter, experiences may taint - the eldest knew.

The hardest part was always too keep the future to oneself, to plan ahead, to feel when it was time. The hardest part was to know, and to completely ignore the facts in favor of natural acting. It never went amiss. The universe never exploded, the reapers never came, the fabric of space and time remained seamless, intact, and flowing between his fingers. Eight, especially, appeared everywhere, the only face that had just once been wiped from a younger Doctor’s memory. And throughout all of his lives, the Doctor always gave himself a choice.

The hardest part was to not manipulate yourself.

And the Eighth Doctor had a foggy memory.

”Doctor,” he now began, “would you let me hold me for a moment?”

”Oh, here you go again.” Seven rolled his eyes.

”I made a promise,” Eight insisted. “Now. Please, allow myself - another moment of weakness.”

”What does ‘hold’ entail, exactly.” Nevertheless, the umbrella was put to lean on the seat.

Older hands took a hold of younger wrists, and the Doctor held his hands gently in his own. The younger exhaled, and looked down at them. First, he tried to relax, then he realized his hands were shaking and he hunched over, finally leaning on Eight’s shoulder and shuddering with held back tears. His expression didn’t change, he held back everything while his hands betrayed him, fingers interlocking. Eight, meanwhile, did nothing but let it happen. No intimate gestures, no comforting touches, nothing that could intimidate his younger self.

It was important, this moment, the Doctor thought, but so fragile. He cared too much to say nothing. Some things he had been let in on, and this had to be one of them.

”Doctor.”

”Doctor.”

”Say my number for me.”

”…Eight.”

The older man moved his head slightly, and his words lied close to the younger’s ear.

”Doctor. Know that I’ll know when to start it at the right moment, and that I will always try to follow my wishes. I’m on a very personal mission, I have to understand. Alas… the love in my hearts is irreplaceable.” Odd thing to say, the Doctor did think, but it felt as true as it could be. “But it will get better, I promise you.”

A dry sniffle, and a low reply. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

”You don’t have to, Doctor. But it’s a promise. My vow to you.” The Doctor hesitates, but then there’s the whim, the urgency: “We have to be safe.”

His hands were freed. Whether or not he remembered this, he wasn’t prepared for his previous self to hug him tight, let go again, grab his umbrella and pace back to the controls.

”Leave me,” he says to the room.

”If that’s what I want.” Eight joined him, pulled a lever, turned a knob. Seven’s palm smashed down on the button for internal phasing. Eight laid his own upon the back of the younger hand, and it didn’t pull away. But it shook, and as the vortex wrapped itself around his being, as he feels time soften and bend to whisk him away to where he’s supposed to be, the younger Doctor hid his face in his arms.

~*~*~*~

The Eighth Doctor stands at his own controls. The pillar keeps moving. The clocks tick. Candle lights flicker. He felt for the whim. It couldn’t be that far away, but it shouldn’t happen for a while. He can’t remember that gorgeous Time Lord with the heavy eyelids showing one bit of grief that fateful day. He had fun. They had fun. The future seemed bright.

The Doctor sits down in his favourite armchair from the current desktop theme, the one he had to sit in for quite long before it reformed according to his eighth body. He tries to remember what came afterwards, what he did after his future had disappeared and he was alone again.

It doesn’t come back to him.

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=53873>


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